690
John E. I. Nolan
Children Count Cocoons, Their Silken Contribution to the Queen's Coronation
British youngsters earn pin money selling home-raised cocoons to England's only raw silk producer,
the Lullingstone silk farm, 17 miles southeast of London. But last summer they gave their finest to be reeled
into thread for Queen Elizabeth's coronation robe. These donors live at Eynsford, Kent, a mile from
Lullingstone. There, in a 50-room castle (page 692), Lady Hart Dyke revived British sericulture in 1932.
24 hours a day, with the tiny staff of three
working in shifts around the clock. But the
order was completed on time.
Pamela Spencer, a local girl, told me how
she and her two colleagues slept in Lady
Hart Dyke's oak-lined office during that
hectic period-the same room from which
Anne Hart, a 17th-century daughter of the
house, escaped through an open window into
the arms of her lover, handsome John Bluett.
In the Path of Flying Bombs
With the coming of World War II, the
peace of the Darent Valley was rudely
shaken.
During the first months nothing
'serious happened, but as time passed many
bombs shattered the quiet of Lullingstone.
In the summer of 1944 death rained from
the skies when Hitler's flying bombs either
cut out overhead or scuttled past with a noise
like a thousand rattling tin cans.
Soon the valley became known to Lon
doners as "Doodlebug Alley," for between
the hills above the Darent River, a tributary
of the Thames, the winged bombs sped toward
England's capital.
During that summer of tragic memory,
more than 2,000 bombs of all types cratered
the banks of the Darent. Ancient manors and
cottages were smashed or badly damaged.
Life became a nightmare, and none hated the
noise and fuss more than the silkworms.
Glass was replaced in the rearing-room
windows-only to be blown out again. Worms
perished by tens of thousands, killed by
blast or cut to pieces by flying glass.
Falling ceilings crushed fragile incubators,
and reeling machines were put out of action.
Cracks appeared in the stout walls of the
Tudor gatehouse, but from its tower a tat
tered Union Jack fluttered defiantly over the
smoke-filled valley.
For several nights Lady Hart Dyke slept
beside her surviving silkworms, always ready
to draw protecting covers over their trays.
Often she had to throw herself flat on the floor
when a "bug's" hideous-sounding death rattle
warned of its rapid approach.
Trees Burned by Incendiaries
One morning Lady Hart Dyke was con
fronted with the fact that during the night
most of the mulberry trees had been burned by
incendiary bombs-and the mulberry leaf is
the staple food of Bombyx mori, the only breed
of silkworm raised at Lullingstone. Lettuce
leaves might keep the worms alive, but such
food would not produce large cocoons, and the
silk would be too thin for use.
Lady Hart Dyke was at a loss, for there
were not enough leaves to last another week.
Suddenly she thought of the children who
were raising silkworms in many parts of
England. Forthwith she penned the following